Cicatrix Manet
by Annjirika
Summary: AU. She swears she's haunted. She's seen this man ever since she was a child, the man that no one else can see. Now 16, Yuffie will have to decide what's real...and who's not. [SquallYuffieRiku] [hiatus]


There are times when I'm absolutely sure I'm not alone. It's always when the house is empty and silent, nothing except the sound of my heart. I try to breathe loudly, especially at night, so that I don't hear any breathing other than my own. I used to like the silence…back when I was younger. It was comforting…and he was comforting.

I don't remember exactly when it started to be honest, I just remember thinking it was normal for this man to be following me around. I was young then of course, no more than 6 or 7 years old. The first time I began to wonder about it was when I mentioned it to my Aunt Nina.

"What are you talking about? What man?" She asked, looking toward the corner where my old, silent friend stood. Her eyes were warm, like my mothers.

I glanced over to him and said proudly, "That man right there! He wants to take me outside with him." I turned back to Aunt Nina and was shocked to find she looked worried.

"Yuffie…darling." She began, taking my hand as she led me into the kitchen where my mother was making dinner. I always liked her hands. They were big and soft, just like the rest of her. I liked to play with her always-manicured nails. "There's no one there. I don't want to hear anything more about this man, do you understand?" Her voice was firm; I was sure I'd done something wrong.

I nodded, slipping away from her grasp. I slid back to the dining room, secretly eavesdropping on their hushed conversation. "It's harmless." My mother was arguing.

"She's getting too old for imaginary friends. The way she carries on about him…well you aren't worried?"

"Of course not! She's 6 years old for heaven's sake. Enough, I get enough of this back seat child raising from mother. Be useful Nina, cut up this lettuce."

That was how it always ended. 'Enough of this.' My mother never wanted to address it, though Aunt Nina always covertly urged me away from the relationship with my invisible friend. The more I overheard this sort of conversation, the more I began to wonder if something _was_ wrong with me.

I started ignoring the man whenever he showed up, which wasn't hard since he never said anything in the first place. I always rattled to him, but he never talked to me. I never even knew his name; I'd always called him 'the man' whenever addressing him.

Eventually, the man quit showing up and I forgot all about him. At least until about a week ago…

_**z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z**_

_**Cicatrix Manet**_

_**-the memory lingers on-**_

_**z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z**_

It was nearly two in the morning when it happened. I had been asleep, my ceiling fan running on high, my decorative Christmas lights bright and safe. My dream had consisted of random, passing images from high school life; embarrassing things such as speeches and having no pants. The next thing I knew, a booming voice came out of nowhere.

"_Wake up_!"

Needless to say, I sat straight up. It was one of those moments when your heart is pounding, your breathing is heavy, you're overly alert – and yet you have no idea why. I sat in the multicolored glow of my room for a few silent moments, looking around carefully for the source of the voice. There was nothing out of the ordinary…I assumed the voice was from my dream.

As I began to rearrange my blankets, the can of pencils I had resting on my dresser suddenly flipped over, crashing to the floor. I whipped my head around at the sound and saw with a jolt that the man from my childhood, in all his dark and silent glory, stood defiantly in the middle of the mess.

I screamed.

There was a loud slam in the living room at that moment, diverting my attention for a half-second. He disappeared in that moment.

As it turned out, we had been in the process of being robbed. The sound of my scream ran him off. I held every belief that my ghost man had known and had been trying to tell me. I never mentioned that part to my mother though…not that she would have given it a second thought.

Ever since she and dad had gotten a divorce a year ago, mom had been preoccupied with her new boyfriend and his two-year-old daughter. For all she cared, I could have been murdered and she'd have blown it off. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration but she really had been neglecting me lately.

Scholl was in the last few furious weeks, already alive with summer excitement. The stress of the looming threat of finals was only amplified by the sighting of my invisible friend. I had even seen him in my history class last week, standing by the window just staring at me.

It was less than comforting to know that it wasn't simply my _house_ that was haunted…

It was _me_…

_z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z_

_TBC_


End file.
